


Spontaneity

by TooDistasteful



Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooDistasteful/pseuds/TooDistasteful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You want to tell her how you feel, but she wouldn’t believe you anyway. Mina/Rei, drabble, fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spontaneity

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 4am. I feel compelled to apologise in advance. Pointlessly fluffy drabblestuff.

You want to tell her how you feel, but she wouldn’t believe you anyway.

It’s not that she’s heartless; she’s as far from it as anybody can get and you’d be the first one to vouch for that. It’s just that she has a little bit of a temper sometimes. And that she doesn’t trust any of you the way you trust her. You can see it in the eyes of your Princess whenever you’re rushing into battle with her and the other girls. The few times you’ve all been missing your miko, it just hasn’t been the same. It’s like she provides the spark to give your gift of light meaning; without her, the world is dark and empty. 

You aren’t entirely positive when you started to notice that you had become one of the numerous moths to that particular flame, swatting at men in your way because she seemed to attract them in spite of her frosty exterior. They couldn’t have known what you did, that beyond that was something warm and untamed, a wild piece of her that you were bound and determined to be able to brush up against. It would be a crime to say that you wanted to tame her, even if the idea had crossed your mind once or twice during the nights you’d spent staring at the ceiling alone. Sure, it’d be a battle if you left her her free will – but that’s what you liked about it. There’d be a challenge.

What you didn’t expect was for your own words to fail you when the pair of you had time together, alone, for the first time in months. You’re stammering and drooling just about, trying to find the words as she quirks an eyebrow and cocks her head to the side _just_ so. It’s all so painfully familiar, and it’s playing out the exact way you thought it would. Rather, it’s playing out the way you thought it would if things went poorly. 

“Mina-chan, are you alright?” You resist the urge to laugh it off, realising in that moment that she’s giving you an out. A perfectly good out that you could take and run with, if you hadn’t already promised your perfectly-human cat that you wouldn’t come back empty-handed. He always had known too much, really, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were never all that subtle. Day after day you’d make the walk home from the bus after leaving the shrine, just to toss your bag to the side, sigh dramatically, and flop backwards onto your bed. Yeah, in retrospect, he probably hadn’t needed to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out.

It sure as heck didn’t give Artemis the right to tell you that you couldn’t return to your own damn house if this didn’t happen, though, and – oh dear. She’s looking at you with concern now, and it takes a moment before you realise you haven’t answered her yet. You’ve just been sitting there telling yourself not to look at her legs, no matter how sinfully short they seem to cut the skirts over at that Catholic school she goes to (you know, the one that drags her away from you and the rest of your friends five days a week for some ungodly amount of time to do Aphrodite only _knew_ what). You’ve always been appreciative of the uniform, if only because as you’ve gotten older, it’s only gotten shorter. It helps that she grew that extra inch or two the year before, and it’s all in her legs.

Whatever, you’re staring. You offer a convincing smile, you hope, and close your eyes with it, smiling bright. You assure her that you’re fine, just spacing out. You’re back down, and she almost seems disappointed. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. In truth, it could be a bit of both, because as much as Rei has a hard time trusting those around her, she still _wants_ to be trusted herself. It’s the way she seems to pull back that gets you following her across the small table on the shrine floor, grasping at the collar of her shirt and pulling her mouth messily against yours.

She makes some surprised noise or another, and even though you feel her hands slam against your shoulders in surprise, there isn’t a forceful push to follow-up. She’s letting you kiss her, even though it’s messy and ill-timed and ill-placed and awkward. You figure that, hey, you’ve had worst first kisses. And you’ll let her not kiss you back this one time, because if the first thing you do is complain about a lack of reciprocation after you break apart when you could very well be kissing a straight, uninterested girl, she’s probably going to flambé you on the spot.

It isn’t any desperate need for air that brings you out, contrary to what all of those trashy romance novels (and even trashier fanfiction) you read might have led you to believe. You’re breathing hard, sure, but you’re not out of breath at all. You’re holding it in fact, watching as her eyes, glazed, don’t quite meet yours and she touches at her bottom lip with her fingertips, in some trance that you’ve caused and oh _fuck_ you’ve messed it all up!

She’s your second-in-command on the battlefield, and you just kissed her. She’s one of the pieces holding your odd mish-mash of people together, and you probably just drove her farther away. Years of progress undone in two seconds because there is a fucking cat in your bed at home waiting to hear _all_ about it – 

“You could have asked.” You aren’t sure why you’re grinning and leaning forwards then, because it takes a moment for your brain to actually process what she just said. By the time your little grey cells see fit to tell you what just happened, she’s looped a hand behind your head, pulling your mouths together with a force you didn’t think was possible. It’s gentle and weirdly soft for her, but you kind of figured it would be. For a moment, you contemplate that she’s probably just as afraid as you are, but that’s before you realise that you’re not afraid anymore, just thrilled. And maybe she’s just as thrilled, and maybe the pair of you can be a _thing_ now.

She’s definitely not heartless, and even though it’s taken you years to break down one ice wall after the next, it’s worth it just for the chance to be able to brush against her warmth. She pulls away, gives you an unusually shy half-smile and actually _blushes_ a bit, which has you grinning like a moron now. “So…”

“Can we go out sometime? Like, on a date? Somewhere? Anywhere?” you manage to stammer out, the questions coming out rapidfire as your lips hang achingly close to hers. Unfortunately, it seems to help the rouge disappear from her cheeks, leaving her looking just kind of awkward instead of awkwardly cute.

“Yeah, I think… that’d be nice.” It’s not as definite as you’d like it to be, but you understand her. Years of listening to the very few things she says about herself have given you some insight into things like these, into why she feels the need to protect herself, even now, with you. You’ll work on it because you’re willing to, even though every bone in your body is itching to ask for some kind of definitive commitment, or at least to hammer out a plan for this exciting date now.

But you can’t be sure if that’ll go over well, and honestly, you’re starting to think that you’ve already pushed your luck. So, instead, you gently flick a bit of hair out of her eyes, and you lean back, beaming at her when she glances through her lashes at you before returning to her schoolbook, clearing her throat. You do the same, minus that last bit, stealing glances above the pages of your English homework at a far more interesting subject ahead of you. You’re pretty sure she’s doing the same, but at the same time, you can’t be sure. You’re at a loss here, but you’re content to take it.

You know one thing for sure, at least: you’re definitely getting your bed back. The cat can count on it.


End file.
